


Playing Nice

by telperion_15



Category: Primeval
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Character Death Fix, Locker Room, Love/Hate, M/M, Oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 18:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something about Captain Becker that irritated Stephen no end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Nice

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a birthday fic for nietie.
> 
> Spoilers for episode 3.03.

There was something about Captain Becker that irritated Stephen no end.  
  
Maybe it was the fact that his hair always looked perfect, even when he’d been chasing dinosaurs for several hours in a rainstorm of biblical proportions.  
  
Maybe it was the fact that every woman in the ARC mooned after him constantly, and was suddenly incapable of behaving like anything other than a giggling schoolgirl the second he walked into a room.  
  
Or maybe it was the fact that, despite having been brought on to the project specifically to protect the scientific team and prevent any more ‘nasty incidents’, as Lester termed them, Becker had promptly let Cutter run back into a burning building and get shot by his ex-wife ( _and_ let Helen escape again into the bargain).  
  
That wasn’t the most stellar beginning to his career at the ARC, in Stephen’s opinion.  
  
Cutter was on the mend now – slowly but surely regaining his health and mobility. Becker had even been to see him once or twice, and (presumably) apologised.  
  
But there was still something about the soldier that wound Stephen up, and made him want to do and say things he’d probably end up regretting.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Stephen walked down the hospital corridor, on his way to his daily visit with Cutter. He was deep in thought, and almost didn’t notice the familiar figure coming towards him until the other man was practically on top of him.  
  
Captain Becker didn’t stop, or say anything, but he did catch Stephen’s eye, and nod to him as he passed. Stephen, for his part, was a little too surprised by Becker’s presence to respond, and instead merely turned and watched the soldier’s retreating back until he disappeared around a corner.  
  
“Hello, Stephen,” said Cutter, when Stephen entered his room a few minutes later.  
  
“What was he doing here?” Stephen asked bluntly.  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Becker.”  
  
“He came to visit me, to see how I was doing,” Cutter replied patiently, as if it should be obvious to Stephen why Becker was hanging around the hospital. “And I’m doing better by the way, thank you for asking,” he added pointedly.  
  
“No thanks to him,” Stephen said, faintly embarrassed that he hadn’t enquired after Cutter’s well-being immediately, but still somewhat preoccupied by Becker’s unexpected presence.  
  
“Stephen!” Cutter’s tone was sharp, and Stephen’s eyes snapped to his face.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Captain Becker isn’t to blame for this,” Cutter remonstrated, his weak hand-wave encompassing himself and the entire hospital room.  
  
“He should have tried to stop you!” Stephen protested.  
  
“What, like you did? Or Connor? Or Abby?”  
  
Stephen was suddenly at a loss for words.  
  
“As I recall, _Jenny_ was the only one who actually tried to stop me, and even she knew really that I wasn’t going to be stopped.”  
  
Stephen tried again. “But it’s Becker’s job to keep you safe.”  
  
“Once upon a time you would have considered that your job,” Cutter said quietly.  
  
“What? I do! It’s just…”  
  
“Relax, Stephen, I’m not blaming you. Or the others. It’s my own fault that I was in the ARC in the first place, and Helen’s fault that I’ve ended up in hospital. It’s certainly _not_ Becker’s fault.”  
  
“All right,” muttered Stephen, very aware that he sounded like he was sulking.  
  
“So, do you think you could try and make friends with Captain Becker? I know he’s a soldier, and they take a lot of whipping into shape, but perhaps you should give him a chance, yes?”  
  
“I never thought I’d hear that kind of advice coming from you,” Stephen said, giving Cutter a small smile.  
  
“Well, maybe I’m mellowing in my old age,” replied Cutter, smiling back. “So what do you think? Can you play nice?”  
  
“I’ll try my best.”  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Stephen kept his word. He tried his best. He was civil and polite to Captain Becker when he had to be, and the rest of the time tried his hardest to avoid the other man, reasoning that the easiest way to ensure things stayed ‘nice’ was to limit their exposure to each other.  
  
Unfortunately, Stephen couldn’t stay out of Becker’s way nearly as much as he wanted. With Cutter still out of action, Stephen was ostensibly in charge of the field team when they were dealing with anomalies, which meant that Becker seemed to want to consult him all the time about the creatures and what to do about them. Part of Stephen knew he should be grateful that Becker and his men were willing to listen and act on the expertise of the scientists instead of just shooting everything on sight, but the more Becker seemed to get inside Stephen’s personal space, the more Stephen just wanted to shove him out of it.  
  
The only good thing about the whole situation was that Becker didn’t seem to have noticed Stephen’s reaction to him. Stephen’s acting skills must be better than he’d thought.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
“Hart, get the hell out of there!”  
  
Stephen ignored the yell behind him, instead lifting his tranquilliser rifle and aiming it at the several tonnes of prehistoric herbivore that was currently trundling towards him.  
  
Two other iguanodons were standing dopily near the anomaly, already feeling the effects of the sedative Stephen had dosed them with. If he could just get this last one, they’d be ready to herd back home.  
  
Stephen kept his nerve as the third iguanodon moved closer and closer. This one seemed a little more skittish than the others, but he knew he had plenty of time to make his shot.  
  
“Hart!”  
  
All of a sudden, he felt himself being dragged to one side, the abrupt movement throwing him off balance so he fell to his hands and knees, right in front of Captain Becker. Behind him, the iguanodon lumbered past, only to be shot by Abby, using her own tranquilliser gun. The creature bellowed, but almost immediately began to feel the effects of the strong sedative. Abby whooped, and exchanged a high-five with Connor.  
  
Stephen sat back on his heels, wiping his hands on his jeans and glaring up at Becker, who appeared to be entirely unrepentant about his interference.  
  
“What did you do that for?” Stephen demanded.  
  
“It was about to trample you!” Becker replied, his glare matching Stephen’s.  
  
“It was nowhere near me!”  
  
“And what if you’d missed? I know you, Hart. You would have tried to shoot it again, and there wasn’t time.”  
  
“I wouldn’t have missed,” Stephen argued. “I could hardly miss at that range!”  
  
“Oh, so you admit it was very close to you, then?” Becker said quickly, looking smug.  
  
“I…oh, for fuck’s sake,” muttered Stephen, clambering his feet as Jenny hurried up to them. “I thought I was supposed to be in charge here.”  
  
“That’s exactly my point,” replied Becker, at the same time as Jenny exclaimed, “Stephen! Are you all right?”  
  
“I’m perfectly fine,” Stephen told her. “No thanks to him.” He scowled at Becker again. “What point, anyway?”  
  
“You’re the leader of the team while the professor’s recovering,” Becker said. “What will we do if you get yourself injured too? Someone else would have to take charge. For Christ’s sake, I might have to take my orders from Temple!”  
  
Jenny cleared her throat pointedly, and the two men looked at her. Becker suddenly looked uncomfortable for the first time in the exchange.  
  
“Er, yes, sorry Miss Lewis, I didn’t think of…”  
  
“It’s all right, Captain,” Jenny said, amusement dancing in her eyes. “I think we all understand what you’re trying to say.” She turned to Stephen. “Becker is right, you can’t recklessly put yourself in danger like that.”  
  
“But I wasn’t…” Stephen started to protest, and then gave up. He obviously wasn’t going to win this argument.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
The locker door swung back and banged violently as Stephen wrenched it open. He was still annoyed about being overruled by Becker and Jenny earlier, and although he knew it wouldn’t actually solve anything, taking his irritation out on inanimate objects made him feel a tiny bit better.  
  
Busy rummaging for a change of shirt, he didn’t hear the footsteps enter the locker room, and so the sudden voice behind him made him jump.  
  
“Do you have a problem with me, Hart?” Becker asked.  
  
“What? No, of course not,” Stephen replied, keeping his head buried inside his locker.  
  
“I think you do.”  
  
Stephen sighed to himself. Apparently he wasn’t that good an actor after all.  
  
“It doesn’t matter. Just forget about it. Cutter told me I should play nice, so I am. Or at least, I’m trying.”  
  
“Ah, Cutter. This is about him, isn’t it?” Becker spoke like someone who’d just discovered a great secret, and for some reason it made Stephen more annoyed than ever.  
  
“Yes,” he snapped, turning round to face Becker. “It’s about Cutter. Cutter, who nearly fucking _died_.”  
  
Becker looked sombre. “I’m sorry about that. Truly, I am.”  
  
“He doesn’t think it’s your fault, do you know that?”  
  
“He’s told me, yes.” Becker tilted his head slightly. “And what do you think?”  
  
“I…I think you should have been doing your job!”  
  
Becker moved suddenly, and Stephen found himself crowded back against the lockers. The edge of the open door pressed into his back, but he didn’t move. He refused to give Becker the satisfaction of seeing him struggle.  
  
“Don’t you think I think that too, every day?” Becker hissed. “I wasn’t where I should have been. If I had been, I could have stopped him. But I was too busy talking to Lester and Sarah, and I _wasn’t paying attention_.”  
  
“Well, you should have…” Stephen’s words died in his throat as he remembered what Cutter had said to him that day in the hospital.  
  
 _As I recall, Jenny was the only one who actually tried to stop me, and even she knew really that I wasn’t going to be stopped._  
  
At the time, Stephen had been talking to Abby and Connor, and not paying much attention to Cutter either. Maybe it _was_ as much his fault as Becker’s.  
  
Or maybe it was no one’s fault at all.  
  
“You feel guilty, don’t you?” Becker said. “Guilty about not stopping him.” He smiled wryly. “Join the club. But taking out on me isn’t going to help matters.”  
  
Stephen tried to hold on to his anger, but he could feel it ebbing away despite himself. He slumped a little against the lockers. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “Sorry.”  
  
“It’s all right,” Becker replied. He smiled again, this time one that was full of cautious warmth. “Perhaps we could start over? Make friends?”  
  
Stephen chuckled. “Cutter said the exact same thing,” he confessed. “He said I should make friends with you.”  
  
“I can be very friendly when you get to know me,” Becker told him.  
  
He shifted slightly, and Stephen froze, suddenly realising that there was something hard pressed against his hip that _wasn’t_ Becker’s gun.  
  
“I don’t think not stopping Cutter is the only thing you’ve been feeling guilty about,” Becker continued conversationally.  
  
Stephen stared at him, and felt the pieces clicking into place. Bloody hell, he was _attracted_ to Becker. Only, he’d been trying his best not to be, because he wanted someone to blame for what had happened to Cutter. But it was a little bit hard to blame someone when all you really wanted to do was kiss them.  
  
“Am I right?” Becker asked, his expression betraying that he already knew the answer to his question.  
  
“You’re a smug bastard, I know that much,” Stephen muttered, and then gave in to impulse and grabbed Becker, pulling him for a kiss.  
  
Becker didn’t seem to have any problem with this, kissing Stephen back fiercely, pushing his tongue past Stephen’s lips to plunder the inside of Stephen’s mouth.  
  
Stephen felt all his blood rush south as Becker rubbed up against him, his cock rapidly hardening in his jeans. Then a small hiss of pain escaped him as the edge of the locker door dug sharply into his back.  
  
Without breaking contact, Becker shifted them both sideways until Stephen was pressed against the smoother surface of the other closed lockers. Then his head thunked back against the metal as one of Becker’s hands pushed between them and cupped Stephen’s swelling cock through his jeans.  
  
“I see what you mean about being very friendly,” he panted.  
  
“An opportunity not to be missed, in this case,” Becker replied. “Why do you think I was so quick to pull you out of the way of the iguano-wotsit?”  
  
“Suddenly it all becomes clear,” Stephen said, and then gasped as Becker squeezed his cock again. He tried to rut against Becker’s body, desperate for some friction, and made a noise that was absolutely not a growl of frustration when Becker laughed.  
  
“Not to fast, Hart. I have no intention of coming inside my clothes.”  
  
Leaning away slightly to make a bit more space, Becker deftly undid Stephen’s jeans and his own combats, pushing the clothing aside just enough so that he could take both their cocks in his hand.  
  
Stephen groaned and let his head fall forward on to Becker’s shoulder, mouthing at his neck just above the collar of his t-shirt as Becker started to stroke them both together, the movements slightly clumsy thanks to his large handful, but still feeling fucking amazing.  
  
Becker grunted, and muttered something that sounded like, “Come on…fuck yeah,” and Stephen thrust up a little into his grip, their cocks sliding alongside each other with just the right amount of friction.  
  
Stephen felt his orgasm starting low in his groin, and Becker’s thumb swiping across his slit was enough to finish him off. He came with a groan that he muffled against Becker’s skin, feeling Backer hit his own climax just a few seconds later, their come mingling on their clothes and over Becker’s hand.  
  
They remained like that, with Becker slumped against Stephen (quite usefully, really, as it was the only thing keeping Stephen upright at that moment), for several long moments. Not even the fact that someone could walk in and find them could induce Stephen to move (he briefly wondered why he hadn’t thought of that danger earlier in the proceedings, and then decided he probably wouldn’t have cared if they had).  
  
Eventually, however, Becker shifted – just enough to make Stephen’s lift his head so they could look at each other – and chuckled.  
  
“Do you think this is what the professor meant when he told you to play nice?” he asked.  
  
Stephen grinned. “Well, since he wasn’t specific as to _how_ I should do it, I don’t see that he’s got any right to complain about my interpretation of his instructions.”  
  
Becker laughed again, and then leaned in to kiss Stephen. “You’re certainly not going to be hearing any complaining from me either,” he said.


End file.
